3 07 2009

michael-jackson31 hotdog

Hello Tots!

My, how the time does fly! It’s been so long since I’ve posted and yes, I have heard about it and yes, I have been publicly flogged in the streets for my negligence. So…bygones?

I wish we could all sit together with a lovely cup of tea and discuss what has been happening in your lives, my life, and the world since my last post. But since hosting a world-wide Hatertots Summit is sort of out of my budget at the moment (hey, there’s a recession people!), we’ll just have to communicate via the blog. That’s not so bad, right? A bit one-sided though.

Let’s see…*taps finger on chin* what have I been up to…

Oh yes, I got married. So there’s that.

Marriage is fun, challenging, a real headache, and a real joy–all wrapped up in crazy. I will probably post a little about the trials and triumphs of the dreaded first year as the muse strikes, so be prepared. Also, PLEASE comment and share your experiences as well!

Michael Jackson died. If you haven’t heard *rolls eyes*. The bright side is that I’ve totally rediscovered the artist’s vast collection of amazing music. The downside is I’ve been forced to revisit my disappointment in the man. But what can you do, right?

Farrah Fawcett also died. I don’t have much to say about this, as I’m a child of the 80’s as opposed to the 70’s, and therefore I don’t know much about her (the hair, of course, notwithstanding). But I know that she bravely fought for her life, and I can do nothing but respect that.

Robert Pattinson is “dating” eleventy billion different actresses and models.

And Nathan’s Beef Franks were voted the best-tasting hot dogs on Yahoo’s Shine.

So there it is. I shall wrap this up for now, my lovely Tots. You remain the light of my life. Stay hatin’.


the joys of living la vida bipolar

4 06 2009

Okey dokey…

Let me preface this post with a disclaimer:  Thus far, my hatertots has kept things pretty light.  I’m not a shallow tot, it’s just that some things are more fun to talk about, such as the epic hotness that is Robert Pattinson (inserted purely for the tag).  That’s just how I roll.  But…

The other day, a family member said to me, “If someone who didn’t know you read your Facebook updates, they would think you had mental problems.”

Encouraging.  Don’t ya just love the “eff-you” brutal honesty that only your family serve you?  Me neither.

I wanted to quip that these unidentified Facebook  stalkers probably wouldn’t be too far off the mark with their hypothetical observation.  But I didn’t.  Because I was still holding back my pet secret.

Well, my pet’s gone and chewed through its leash.

I’m not sure why I haven’t told many people about my bipolar disorder.  Maybe shame–yeah, that has alot to do with it.  Like, if I were a stronger, better person I wouldn’t have got the stupid thing in the first place.

Buckets of  fear–that people wouldn’t believe me, that they would think I was just being overly dramatic.  (Trust me, if I was going to pick a disease purely on the glam factor, bipolar would NOT be my first choice.  Or my second.  Now, multiple personality disorder on the other hand…)

Fear of being a freak–that people would feel compelled to walk on tippy-tip-tip-toes around me, scared that at any moment I might flip out and go on a rampage.

(And there’s always the comforting fear that I might indeed flip out and go on a rampage.  I’m forever hoping that these would be hugging rampages, thus far no dice.)

There’s alot of people who read this blog that, sadly, I will never have the pleasure of meeting.  But there’s also alot of people who read this blog that I see all the time.  They know me, but they didn’t know that for the past year I’ve been going through all this.   That’s the scary thing.  Be kind, I feel like I forgot to wear pants to school today.  Pretty damn exposed.

So if I’m so flipping uncomfortable, why am I writing this?  Well, I think I’m writing this because, at the core, I’m pretty selfish and writing about all of this makes me feel better.

Don’t despair–my hatertots won’t become “my bipolartots” or anything.  Just from time to time I may share some experiences, things I’ve learned, or something I think may help someone else.  That’s another, more selfless goal for writing about my bipolar disorder.  Maybe someone out there is struggling with this same disease and can relate to, and gain insight from, what I post here.  That is certainly my hope, anyway.

So there it is.  Hmm…I feel kind of…cleansed, actually.  And, since I want to end this on a high note…

some fail…just cuz it’s monday

18 05 2009

Here’s something random for you today:

I like to see FAILs because it’s so much more funner (grammar fail) than seeing WINs–unless you’re one of those weird pseudo-hippie glitter heads, in which case, this is for you:


Wow…did I just make up an entire new social group?  If you’re a  “weird pseudo-hippie glitter head,” could you please let me know?

Anyway, in honor of this truly wretched Monday, here’s a big, fat FAIL!  Suck on it!

guess who got their twilight on??? (update)

21 03 2009

So I just got home from standing in line for a couple fun-filled hours to get my copy of Twilight.  I’m one happy tot!

Got a free tote!

I’ll be posting pictures soon!

crowd The huge crowd at FYE…one of three parties we witnessed–all totally packed!

meedward1 Me & a cardboard Delicious…sigh….

meedward2 I’m sweeping Edward off his feet!  Okay, it was like 2am and we were all a little loopy…

happy st. paddy’s day!

17 03 2009


in the nooz: octo-mom could lose her house!

19 02 2009


Have you heard the latest in the continuing trainwreck saga that is Nadya Suleman and her 14 babies?

Yeah, the house that she and her brood lives in, the house that really belongs to her mother, faces foreclosure.

Read the whole story HERE

But, I’d like to point out a few things that I find outrageous interesting:

1. Nadya Suleman is still jobless and on food stamps yet…
2. The family has hired a publicity firm!
3. You can read all about the tragic happy family at Nadya’s new website!

(The only actual links on the site is information on where you can comment or  donate money!)

Wow, could this story get any more re-damn-donkulous?

An agent? A website? What’s next, her own talk show?! In this day and age, I seriously wouldn’t be surprised. I know that by posting this I’m kind of adding to it, but I’m going to be so glad when her 15 minutes are up and she has to face the reality of her situation. I just feel so bad for those poor babies…

Please, people, DO NOT BE A FAN OF THIS WOMAN!!!

“it is how it is.”

10 02 2009

I have to introduce myself to my grandmother almost every day.

She doesn’t recognize me or any of her other grandkids.  She barely knows her own children.  My mom, my aunts, have to tell their own mother who they are.  Their own mom.

We have to tell my grandmother that her own mother and father have been dead for many years.  We watch her grieve all over again.  The knowledge of their deaths is fresh for her.  Day after day.

“I want to go home,” she pleads, standing in her own living room, for about the millionth time.

“You are home,” my grandfather answers.  Again.  He’s patient, most days.  But it’s draining him.  It’s draining everyone.

We’ve talked about putting her into “a home.”  It sounds almost like a death sentence.  It could be.  Away from everyone, they’re sure she wouldn’t last a month.  So we deal.

“What else can you do?” we all say to each other at different times.  “It is how it is.”

“Will you take me home?” she asks me.  She seems for all the world like a child.  An anxious little girl.

“Sure, granmaw,” I say companionably.  No reason to argue, to make her more upset than she already is.  She’ll forget soon anyway.

“Why won’t anyone help me?”  She’s frustrated.  Combative.  She feels like we’re all against her.  No one’s on her side.

Against this disease, we’re all helpless.  It makes you wonder, you know?  Why God wouldn’t just extend to her the mercy of death.  I know that was a terrible thing for me to say, but I’m just being honest.

Instead, He gives us the strength to abide.  Who am I to question?  Who am I to say, “Sorry, God, but this whole granmaw thing is too hard.”

The good days are rare treasures.  Eating all her dinner, consenting to a bath, laughing at a joke.  These are all precious to us.  Minor miracles.

Maybe that’s what God wants us to see, after all.

Maybe this is how He sees us: frail and lost.  Asking the same questions over and over.  Not really recognizing who or what’s right in front of us.  Desperately wanting to go home.

I bet He rejoices in our little triumphs, too.